


The Paper Route

by UnholyHelbig



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, New York City, Russian Mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-05-31 14:55:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15121856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnholyHelbig/pseuds/UnholyHelbig
Summary: After Emily Junk runs her bike into the side of a black Cadillac, she gets thrown into a world of underground trade while a mysterious woman turns her life upside down.[Aka the AU where Aubrey Posen runs the Mafia, and Emily Junk falls for her]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this AU on a website for prompts, and I kind of elaborated on it. Hopefully, you guys enjoy it so far, it's not going to be super long. But please leave some reviews and let me know if I should continue. I've never written Junksen before!

**Every thought was** in high definition, pounding against the inside of her mind. The noises of the room weren’t familiar in the slightest- a dull and monotone beeping that was slowly becoming accelerated, the mumbling of a group of people that seemed to be far away, but more importantly, the shifting of leather. Leather from a seat, from a jacket maybe. But it was loud, Emily decided.

She blinked a few times, dumbly, if anything. The ceiling had a tile feel to it, ones that reminded the young girl of her high school. As it got older, the teachers would allow their homeroom to pull them down and put their own artistic spin on them. Many would paint on dates, or relationships that wouldn’t last a month past graduation. But Emily had optimistically painted a sunflower in a field of green grass.

Now, it was dull, a blue haze coating the room. There was a television on, that much was clear. It The lights danced against her view as she drew in a careful breath. It smelled of antiseptics and cheap air freshener. Emily’s fingers curled into the paper-thin sheets that rested under her touch.

She registered that it hurt; everything was throbbing in tune with her heart, a strong brace near the corner of her elbow reaching down all the way to her fingertips. She wanted to move it, test out her mobility, but it was almost like she was begging for five more minutes.

“Don’t try to move,” The voice was smooth, young, Emily instinctively shooting up.

She should have listened to the stranger. The cords quickly pulled at her tender skin, they were monitoring her heart rate, sticky edges of sensors tugging relentlessly against raw areas. Her shoulders ached, her head pounding as she glanced around the small room.

There was a large window with a blue couch positioned under it. A laptop was plugged into a nearby socket, casting that aforementioned blue light with that of the muted television. Some late-night talk show was on. The door leading to a milky hallway stood a few feet from the bed.

It wasn’t any of that that startled Emily, instead, it was the woman who stood near the edge of her bed. She _was_ a stranger. Not one that dawned dark scrubs, or a doctor in a lab coat; no, this woman wore a simple black t-shirt and had long stretches of ink burned into her skin. Emily couldn’t’ see them from here, but wanted to know the story behind the thickets of thorns and, was that a crow?

She had a slender and strong figure, blonde tresses falling over broad shoulders. She was strong, arms resting on the plastic baseboard of the bed. Her eyes were an unripe green, casting grey under the navy glow. She had perfect lips pursed and her chin lifted. Emily drew inhaled, air icy.  

“I told you not to move.” The woman was calm with her words, though they carried a bit of a comedic tone.

Emily dug her back further into the mattress, eyes blinking a few more times before she realized just how dry her throat was. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was a low growl, one that would be considered sexual in some situations if her stomach wasn’t churning so much.

The blonde woman seemed to understand the rapid movements as she reached onto the brown nightstand, picking up the dull pink plastic pitcher and dripping some cold water into a plastic cup- the kind that was small and crumpled easily. Emily struggled to pull herself up, the woman watching with patience. She somehow knew the smaller of the two wouldn’t accept any help.

She hungrily grasped at the cup that was held out in front of her, sighing into the drink as she gulped it down until her throat was appeased. Long drips methodically streaked down her neck and soaked into the blue gown that was decorated in little flowers. She realized she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“Thank you,” She husked, running her fingers over the edged plastic of the container. It was a nervous habit, one that filled the room with a soft sound.

She nodded “No problem. Do you remember what happened?”

Emily wracked her brain. _Had she seen this girl before?_ No. That was impossible, she would remember someone like this. She wasn’t forgettable. Her daily routine, that of delivering papers, was enough to introduce her to all the early risers. She would plug in her earphones and zone out the rest of the world, working for her uncle’s company for the morning before she would walk dogs the rest of the day.

The last thing she remembers was slamming into something- hard. A black El Dorado that was stationed between two alleyways. Its lights were off, and her bike was shattered just like her arm. But she had blacked out after that. Waking up here, here with some model level stranger.   

“I hit a car,” Emily said plainly, it was almost a question.

There was an odd sense of pride that filled her at the strangers. It was an odd thing, craving the approval of someone she just met. It wasn’t immediate, but it was there. There enough for her cheeks to heat up the second the woman lowered herself onto the edge of the bed.

“Oh god, was that your car?” Emily suddenly rushed with an explanation.

“My car?” The woman chuckled, a light sound, “No. Not mine. My fathers.”

“Goodness.” Emily pressed her fingers instinctively to her hairline. She winced quickly, fingers meeting the sticky tape that held gauze over a bruise.  She hissed, clenching her eyes shut. “Damnit.”

“Easy tiger.” A small whisper “You took quite the fall.”

She stranger instinctively ran her fingers over the elaborate tattoo sleeves on her delicate skin. The woman was biting back her words, not saying something she quite wanted to. It was like she was guilty, guilty about something that Emily couldn’t’ quite understand.

“you didn’t have to stay.” Emily finally mumbled, words soft. She appreciated the company, even if it was unspoken. The woman looked like she had quite the set-up, a few work papers that Emily couldn’t’ quite read spread across the opposite edge of the couch.

“I was asked to. My father, he wanted me to be here when you woke up.” She clenched her jaw. “Conrad Posen isn’t a man you question, love.”

The term of endearment was enough to have Emily’s whole chest flush a bright red, even if she could keep the blush away from her cheeks, the rest of her body was another story. This woman had a strange effect on her. “I crashed my bike into New York’s most prolific lawyer’s car?”

The woman pursed her lips, lifting her chin slightly.

“Oh, my stars, _I crashed my bike into Conrad Posen_ _’_ _s car._ _”_ Her eyes flashed up to the emerald ones of the woman. They were kind and soft, and God, not those of a lawyer. Though, the Posen’s ran a family business. She had seen the older man in court, but not for a long while.

It was mainly based from rumors or retirement, though, his old billboards still littered the streets with it’s faded yellow number slathered near a black background. His eyes were beady, and his smile was forced. Did he even practice law anymore?  

“You certainly did,” She narrowed her eyes, “You and your paper route effectively derailed one of the biggest bank heists this city has ever seen.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I wrote this in about an hour and I know it seems like a filler but I really do want to give you guys a good sense of things. Anyway, let me know what you think!

 

 **Emily** **’** **s stomach tightened**. It might have been a gut reaction or the thought of the IV that stuck firmly to her arm with a sticky piece of adhesive. Or the fact that her head started to ache more than it ever had before- but she lurched. The acid working its way up her throat as she reached blindly for the metal trashcan by the edge of the bed.

The stranger, Conrad Posen’s daughter, read the greenish look on the smaller girls face with compassion. She didn’t flinch in the slightest as she pulled the can onto the bed, letting Emily wrap her arms around it and bury her head. She heaved a few times, coughing into the bin as the woman glanced down at her watch. An expensive one with a black band and golden lettering.

Emily sniffed a few times, she mumbled something into the trashcan. The words were muffled and echoed all at once. It made the gorgeous woman lift her deep unripe stare. It was adorned with concern and curiosity. “What was that, Emily?”

Wild eyes met the gaze of the woman, the Posen who was probably sent here to squeeze some oxygen into her drip, so it would kill her quietly. Emily’s thoughts were running wild; no, the man hadn’t practiced law in years- _but that doesn_ _’_ _t mean he_ _’_ _s a criminal._

Except, it did. It did mean exactly that when his daughter was sitting her telling her that she derailed a bank heist. A practical joke, maybe, that was kept too long. She didn’t’ make a move to pull a smile or to shove her playfully and tell her that she was kidding. Because she wasn’t.

“I said,” She swallowed the heated taste in her mouth “What the fuck.”

“Oh.” That made her smile, chuckle even. It was a soft sound, one that almost appeased the churning feeling in her gut. “I said that you derailed one of the biggest bank heists the city has ever seen.”

“No, I heard you.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper. Emily cringed, scrunching her face up as she set the trashcan down on the side of the bed. She ignored the pulling of the machines and the way her gown bunched up in awkward places in front of a pretty girl.   “You’re here to kill me.”

“Is that a question?”

“I don’t know.”

The blonde shifted her stare. There was a bit of sunlight peeking out of the corners of the window. Blinds sat up stacked, keeping them shrouded in a strong darkness. It shaded the sharp features of the beautiful creature in front of her- making her palms sweat and her thoughts stall as if she were back in high school just waiting for the cheerleader to shoot a glance her way. Emily slept with the cheerleader.

There was a deep knock at the door, one that made Emily’s breath hitch. She wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor when she saw the woman who leaned heavily against the frame. Everyone in this hospital seemed to walk away from a modeling camp- and Emily shrunk further into her gown with her shaky hands as if she wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it.

Her hair was so red it was almost copper, skin fair and features kind. She wore a grimace, sharp blue eyes not wavering as they flicked between the two women. A tight pitch shirt hugged her frame- in fact, she was dressed in almost all black save for the peak of white socks that filled the void between her shoes and pant leg.

“Aubrey,” She spoke, holding up a phone that cast a glow across the room. Emily couldn’t read the unavailable number that was scrawled against the screen. “Your father. He wants an update. If you’d be ever so kind.”

 _Aubrey._ She looked like an Aubrey. But Emily wondered silently if that was because she just heard the name. If she had stared at the stranger longer she wouldn’t assign her that label. But now it was all she was capable of seeing. It reminded her of the old black and white films- not the fancy ones. But clockwork orange, a movie with Aubrey Morris. One that distorted time and space and made the walls feel like they were bleeding.

Maybe things were melting.

The woman in the doorway offered wordlessly to stay behind and keep an eye on their new friend. She held the phone out easily, Aubrey not showing any form of emotion as she grasped the item, raising it to her ear. “Tout va bien père”

Emily inhaled sharply at words Aubrey seemed to growl. She let the door close softly behind her. The woman leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. She had tattoos- almost the same markings that littered the blonde’s skin. The crow was still evident, though not clearly present in the drawings. Instead, it was a black feather laced in a ring of fabric. It flowed almost effortlessly. Words in Latin that Emily couldn’t bring herself to decipher stood out in the scene.

“I’m Chloe.” She offered up, voice light despite appearance.

“Emily.”

“I know.” She girl squinted, “you did crash into our car, remember?”

The girl pulled her knees to her chest, letting her chin rest upon them. It made her look smaller. She knew that Chloe was teasing, or at least the hoped that she was. The girl looked a lot more laid back than Aubrey had been- though, something about the blonde felt warm and magnetizing.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“that’s a funny thing to ask a girl who just cost you thousands of dollars.”

Chloe huffed through a smile. “I suppose it is.”

They fell into a lull of silence once more. Chloe rocked back and forth on her feet nervously. It looked like a habit but gave her an heir of innocence. She eventually distracted herself by running a finger over the painted edge of the door- her touch delicate as Emily picked at a loose thread that held the whole blanket together for all she knew.

The door creaked open once more, cutting through the awkward tension in the air. She plopped the phone back in Chloe’s grasp, mumbling something under her breath that earned a nod, but not a departure. Instead, she let the tension drop from her body as she flopped down on the couch opposite of the computer. Emily watched the two with care.

She contemplated reaching for the emergency button, pressing down so hard the nurses rushed to her side and got security to escort the two women out. But Emily bit her tongue. Conrad Posen seemed to have hold everywhere, the man respected and adored by many. He had strings, and Emily couldn’t’ decide of the two girls in front of her were part of that.

“Emily, it seems to be your lucky day,” Aubrey spoke, running her fingers easily through blonde locks. The brunette couldn’t’ help but drag her eyes away from the spot of exposed skin that made itself known above Aubrey’s waistline. It was _toned._ And that wasn’t the point. The point was the words she was speaking with care.

She almost barked out a laugh. How was this lucky? She ruined her bike, and a bank robbery, form the sound of it. If she wasn’t dead by the end of the day she would be the second her uncle heard about the crash.

“We’re not killing you today.” Chloe started scrolling through her phone, looking generally disinterested in the topic as Emily widened her doe eyes.

Aubrey gave the woman a set of daggers that could stop traffic. She dug the tip of her boot into Chloe’s ankle, earning a yelp and an unapologetic shrug. “Or ever.” Aubrey lowered herself onto the side of the bed. “But you did cost us something.”

She swallowed thickly. Was this an eye for an eye situation? Something that would cost her more than she ever wanted to give in the first place. She delivered papers, for fuck's sake, she wasn’t cut out to deal with collar crime or the people who associated themselves with it.

She rested her hand on the bed, curling her fingers against the mattress.  “Something big.”   


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I just wanted to say I really do appreciate all the reviews and they constantly keep me motivated to write. I wish I had the time to respond to everyone! Please let me know what you think!

**Emily wondered why she** wasn’t blindfolded. Why a sheet hadn’t been thrown over her vision, effectively shielding her from the sun and the location of where they were headed. Isn’t that what the mob was supposed to do? They were supposed to be tying a thick rope around her ankles and fastening the other side to a cinderblock before pushing her off the Brooklyn Bridge.

Okay, maybe she had seen too many gangster movies for her own good- but Emily Junk knew for a fact that she shouldn’t’ be riding shotgun in a Ford F150 down the interstate like it was a normal drive to their next destination- wherever that was.

Aubrey drove a truck that matched her style; bold and way too big for her own good. But damn did it fit her. Her pristine gaze trained on the traffic in front of them as overcast clouds littered the sky. Her arms were exposed entirely now, a dark red tank-top flushing out her skin as that bird etched into her arm continued to give Emily dastardly looks.

The black fabric of Aubrey’s t-shirt hung a bit loose around Emily’s shoulders. The older woman claimed that she effectively had to get rid of the clothes Emily was wearing before. They were too bloodstained, or something. Emily wasn’t paying attention, because Aubrey chose then to pull the garment over her head and toss it her way. It smelled like her; peppery and sweet all at once.

A pair of turquoise scrub pants were tied against her waist, the string hanging too low against the elastic band. She looked like she was swimming in her own fear, moussed by the clothing and her inability to push her back further into the leather car seat.

The roar of the engine and mingling breath was the only thing to be heard. Chloe had taken her own car, not much for parting words as she walked wordlessly to an equally as pitch mustang. Maybe it was a Shelby, Emily couldn’t tell from this far. And truthfully the thought of being with Aubrey alone was looming at the pit of her stomach.

“You’re quiet.” Aubrey reached forward and turned the air down, leaving more room to talk. Goosebumps raised against the younger woman’s skin at the slight change.   

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

Aubrey tightened her jaw, allowing her eyes to flick over to the girl next to her before concentrating back on the road. Her foot instinctively pressed a bit harder on the gas, making the engine groan under the increase of pressure. “We can go back to not speaking if you would like.”

“No, I- “Emily stalled. She liked hearing Aubrey talk. “This is all just a lot. I don’t understand.”

She nodded with patience, hair falling into her stare as she lifted her chin just enough to pull the strand from her gaze. It would distract her if it stayed too long- distract her like Emily had been doing for the past two days. Aubrey ran her thumb over the grooves in the wheel. “I was supposed to.”

That wasn’t the answer Emily necessarily wanted to hear. Part of her wanted to take the question back. Why would she want to know about her impending death if it ever boiled down to that? Her stomach dropped towards her feet, swallowing the sour taste in her mouth.

“I convinced my father that you were useful.”

“Why?”

“You reminded me of a wounded bird.”

Emily drew in a careful breath, though her quick head movement to the left betrayed her. It sent a sharp pain through her temple, that same sticky bandage pulling at raw skin as she stifled a wince. Instead, she let her stare linger against Aubrey’s frame while she drove. “You felt sorry for me?”

“Not sorry, I suppose.” Aubrey never stuttered with her words. Instead, she paused to think about what she was going to say next as she flipped her blinker on and quietly veered the truck to the right. The exit was littered with thick pine trees- leading them away from the city. “I felt like we had something in common, maybe.”

She stilled once more.

“We planned for this, Emily. For months, almost a year. But none of us factored in a spunky paper delivery girl slamming into the side of our getaway car because she was feeling her music just a little too much.” Aubrey swallowed “So maybe it was fate or something.”

_Fate._ Emily warmed at the word. Her inability to pay attention was suddenly morphed into something that was only written about in teen novels. Anyone could have crashed into that car, and anyone could be sitting here next to Aubrey. So maybe fate wasn’t the exact word, but at the moment, fate was keeping her alive. Alive and slightly terrified, but alive.

Her brows furrowed. “How am I useful to the mafia?”

Aubrey lifted her brow. “I never said we were the mafia.”

“Who else plans a bank heist with a man that powerful?”

The blonde let out a huff at the words. Of course, she was smart too. Her father had stayed out of the limelight for a very long time. He still showed his face at local mixers and allowed a couple of ribbon-cutting ceremonies, but he wouldn’t dare show his presence in a courtroom again. Not after the deal, he had made, and the life that he had created for himself.

“Fair enough, Emily.” She relented “But you must understand, it’s not like the movies.”

Aubrey pulled the car to the right once more, this time, not bothering to use her blinker. There was no one behind them, something Emily had failed to notice as she got lost in the deep pools that were Aubrey’s eyes- and the conversation. The conversation, of course, had been her first priority.

The road didn’t have asphalt like the previous two highways. Instead, it was dirt- a white chalky substance that was littered with gravel. The wheels of the truck kicked up a ghostly path, Emily adjusting her position the seat as she looked around. All she could see was a dark forest. What little light the sun provided today was gone, making the car cool quickly. She hadn’t seen woods like this since her summer in Vermont. She had to visit her Aunts, clearing out an estate before returning to the safety of New York.

There was a bit of a break in the trees, one that let in an edge of light. Emily decided to focus her attention on that as they approached. She noticed that a taught iron fence stretched between two stone columns. There was a smaller box with a shielded key code that Aubrey pulled next to.

Her movements were fluent and familiar as she rolled the window down, typing a code in silently before pulling her arm back into the clutches of the cars dark interior. They listened as the gate opened- Emily watching in awe as she realized just how far those gates reached.

They drove over an easier road now, still sprinkled with trees, but not nearly as strong as the forest the surrounded the property. Aubrey tapped her fingers against the steering wheel absently as the vegetation thinned out completely to an extravagant green lawn that was cut into a symmetrical pattern.  

“oh wow,” Emily murmured under her breath as she caught a good look at the house in front of them.

It stood out against the sky, a large mansion type building that stood atop a bit of an incline. There was a stone path that rounded a fountain in front of two large double doors. It looked to be three- no four- stories high.  The same terra cotta stone and brick being used to build three clear sections of the house. Emily thought places like these only existed in Los Angeles. Not out in the middle of the woods. Though, she was sure the Posen’s didn’t’ like to be seen.

“It used to be a plantation home in the late 1800’s.” Aubrey stated at the notice of the girl’s wonderment “My father craves invisible extravagance.”

Emily swallowed audibly as she pulled around the circle. She craned her neck when the car came to a stop in front of stone steps. Two statue lions guarded the walkway with their stoic stances.

“I never knew this place existed.”

“That’s the point, Love.” Aubrey reached over and unclipped her belt before shifting her position enough to keep one hand on the wheel while facing Emily. “There are a lot of curious people in there, Emily.” She cocked her head to the side “I need you to promise me something”

Emily nodded with caution

“Whatever you do, don’t get defensive,” Aubrey said the sentence like it was a normal thing to exclaim, all while Emily paled even further. “My family has never been able to handle defensive very well.”   


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is super boring so far, and I'm sorry... but let me know what you think! 
> 
> Side note: I make video edits, and I have an instagram account if you want to check it out. Its PosenEdits, and I make a whole bunch of junksen edits, because how can I not?

**The house smelled** like Aubrey. Or maybe Aubrey just smelled like the house. It was sharp and light all at the same time. The foyer having kept a cooler atmosphere than the hot summer air. The sweat that had formed on the younger woman’s collarbone dried immediately, tightening her skin as she scanned her gaze against the décor.

The muddied tile was glossed in an extravagant pattern, a two-toned staircase leading up both sides of the house. The door large and mahogany with giant beastly knockers. Her eyes quickly drifted up to the glass chandelier. There was a doorway carved into drywall, Emily could see a bit of a dining room, the other side leading to a living area that was darkened by blackout curtains.

It looked like a normal house; if a house was a mansion that belonged to a mafia leader. She could almost imagine the red velvet ropes set up to deny her access to certain areas of the place. Like the nightclub that she tried to sneak into at 19 years old with a fake ID. She was so nervous that the small card could have passed if she wasn’t stumbling over her words.

Aubrey dropped her keys into the bowl beside the door with a muffled clatter. Emily saw three sets- maybe three, she couldn’t’ tell with the jumble of metal and chains. She tried to count them- but drew her stare away when she realized Aubrey’s emerald stare.

“There are four.” She said, running her fingers over the ink on her skin.

“Hm?”

“The keys. There are four of them.” 

Emily nodded thoughtfully. She shouldn’t’ be paying that much attention to detail, but what else was to be done? It was very apparent to the young girl that Aubrey was perceptive. She picked up on body langue, even in the hospital room when she reached for a glass of water and similarly a plastic waste bin.

She shrunk further into her clothes the second she got the slight lift of the chin from Aubrey, telling her with tender eyes that they couldn’t’ just stand by her front door until nerves boiled down. Emily shoved her hands into the thin pockets that the scrub bottoms created. She could feel the heat of her fingers on her thighs, digging her nails into the raw flesh to keep from biting the inside of her lip.

Aubrey walked with a purpose, the girl behind her looking small despite almost being the same stature. She let her eyes flashed against the nice décor and the looming walls. There weren’t any family photos- just exquisite pieces of art that were framed in something that probably cost double Emily’s college tuition. The art itself never dreaming of claiming a price tag.

The blonde seemed to take a steadying breath herself as she stood before a set of white painted French doors. The blinds were drawn, letting the slightest sliver of morning light cast against the terra cotta tile. “Remember, love. Keep your wits about you.”

 _“_ _What?_ _”_ Emily asked a hushed whisper. She hadn’t said a word about composure, there wasn’t much of a beaming first impression to be had when she was dressed like this, her mind tired. She felt sore, and adrenaline was pumping through every inch of her body. And Aubrey had the audacity to use that stupid little pet name that shouldn’t make butterflies tickle against the back of her throat and ravage her stomach. It was cruel.

Aubrey didn’t’ give her much time to contemplate before she applied pressure to the door and pulled it open in one fluid moment (Because of course, it was fluid, it was Aubrey Posen). The back of the house was a flash of green, the greenest grass Emily had ever seen; it was interrupted by a tile plated pool, one that had a hot tub nestled close enough for the water to spill over the small diver.

There was a patio table right outside of the entryway, clouded by a blue painted ceiling on a southern porch that was giving mercy to the sun. Emily’s eyes stopped at a woman who sat gracefully with her eyes glued to documents spread among the table. She hadn’t pulled her gaze up, oblivious to the interruption. But even from here, Emily could tell looks ran in the family.

Aubrey seemed to let out a breath of relief in seeing that her father wasn’t there, and truthfully, so did Emily. Hers was a little less warranted, but she couldn’t bring herself to face a man that needed _convincing_ about preserving her life.

“She likes to work outside,” Aubrey said, explaining. “It’s better than the office, I suppose.”

The hushed whisper caused the woman to snap her attention up. Even with being in the comfort of her own home she had dawned a floral button-down that matched easily with a pair of dark slacks. She looked so clean pressed, her eyes hardening at the noise, but quick to soften with realization. She smiled- something that was dazzling, something that Emily certainly didn’t expect.

“Aubrey, I didn’t expect you home.” She said, pushing her chair out with grace as she stood.

Aubrey once again lifted her chin as she took a few more steps closer. There was no way she was going to let the elder Posen take a longer effort than necessary. Instead, she reached out her hand and shook her mother’s outstretched one thickly. _She shakes her mother's hand?_

“Who’s your friend dear?” Unripe eyes flashed to Emily’s. They moved against her appearance, but she stifled the sour look on her face and forced a smile onto her bright features.

“This is Emily. I talked to father. She’ll be staying with us for a while.”

This earned a slight head nod, Emily ran her hand against the inside of her leg, fingers still plunged into her pocket. Her palm was sweating, the looming fear of having to shake this woman’s hand bit at the back of her mind as she managed to smile.

Mrs. Posen lifted both eyebrows before she lowered herself back down into her patio chair, it groaned under her weight, the woman flittering her eyes back to the paperwork that Emily wanted to stare at herself- but she gulped back her curiosity and stared at Aubrey like she was begging for help.

“That’s fine, Aubrey. Emily, make yourself at home.”

It was a blunt reaction. Even Emily’s mother would grill her whenever she brought friends home: _Do her parents know she_ _’_ _s here? Is she spending the night? Do you know where she lives? Does she have any allergies?_

Aubrey Posen’s mom had nothing to offer, bored with the conversation and annoyed with the intrusion. She ran her fingers against the edge of the table, picking up nothing but more anxiety. She glanced up “Are we done, Aubrey?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Her arms were tucked at her sides, Aubrey turning on her heel in order to push them back towards the house. Emily followed once again, dutifully like a dog. Part of her contemplated running at the large rock that formed in the pit of her stomach. The interaction was all business, and Aubrey didn’t’ seem bothered by it in the slightest.

Emily let the storm door close behind her with a light thud as if not to disturb the woman any more than they already had. She got a good look at the kitchen, walls painted in a deep crimson- the countertops a pepper granite.

“Is she-“

“She’s my father’s third marriage. And frankly, I enjoy my sister's mother more.” Aubrey stated, letting her stare glance over Emily curtly. “You need to get some sleep. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

The third marriage must have stuck, Emily’s mind pooling with thoughts as she knit her eyebrows together. At this point. She knew better than to question a Posen.  


	5. Chapter 5

**Emily Junk had** always needed time to settle herself. Before her driving test, she gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned a sickly white. Still- she took a deep breath and reminded herself that the worst she could do was fail. The worst thing that could happen would require another month of studying, and late-night practices before she would find herself back in this same position.

Emily aced the exam.

Right now, however, she couldn’t rationalize the fear. She couldn’t’ assure herself of the worst thing that could happen, because the paper delivery girl didn’t know the circumstances herself.  Hell, the only thing she knew, was that she wasn’t sleeping in some ditch with the countless others that crossed Brooklyn’s Mafia.

That was enough to make her revel in the silence that finally washed over her after the past 24 hours in Aubrey Posen’s presence. She couldn’t’ calm herself down or grip a steering wheel when she was in a passenger seat.

Yet, she tried. She stared up at her disheveled appearance in the bathroom mirror. Something that was gold plated and went along with the dark black granite of the sink. The handles were embossed in the same elegant color, the sound of her own breathing enough to echo off the tiled walls.

Aubrey had given her a moment to collect herself and strip from the clothes that she had dawned since the hospital. Her body still ached, her head pounding as she stared at just how bad her injuries were; a sickly bruise dancing across her hairline and most of her naked shoulder. There were a few other scrapes and cuts, but none as bad as the brunt of what her body cushioned upon impact of the El Dorado.

The blonde had instructed her that she was going to come in the second Emily was behind the curtain, worried that the girl would drown herself out of desperation. Or maybe she just thought that the newly injured woman was her responsibility. She practically was.

Dark grey eyes flashed towards the door sparingly before she straightened herself up as much as she could and lifted her leg over the edge of the tub. The curtain was a deep and royal red, it tinted the entirety of the small space in a drained crimson.

She stilled herself before giving Aubrey the okay to come through the door.

Despite it being her bathroom, the blonde entered slowly. Emily leaning heavily against the side of the shower as she watched the controls with a creased stare. _Of course, you don_ _’_ _t know how to work fancy showers._ She thought bitterly to herself.

Emily knew that Aubrey was standing there in silence, the door having clicked softly behind her. “You okay, Love?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She gritted back, _damn Aubrey Posen and that stupid nickname_.   

“Are you sure? Because you haven’t turned the water on yet.”

“I’m aware.”

There was a slight beat of silence before Aubrey let out a soft sigh. Not one of judgment or pain, just one to fill the quiet that quickly engulfed them. Emily pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, mentally swearing against the pain that would wrack her body the second she tried to reach forward and fiddle with the controls of the shower.

“Can I help you?” The older woman asked, almost timidly.

“Yeah”

Instead of giving out another answer, Emily watched Aubrey’s blurry figure move with elegance through the curtain. The Brunette instinctively moved to the back corner of the shower (Well, the best she could with her aching muscles catching up with her.)

Aubrey looked almost like a child as she held her left hand up to shield her eyes from the cowering girl. Someone who had just walked in on their parents doing less than savory things on Christmas Eve.

“I know it looks confusing.” She mumbled, once again filling the silence. “But it’s this button right here- kind of like those fancy cars that have the engines that just start.”

Sure, enough the second she hit a button the water started streaming from the showerhead with purpose. The corner of Aubrey’s tank-top got three shades darker as her arm got caught in the crossfire. She barely noticed it, instead, she retracted respectfully and plopped down on the toilet seat.

Emily was pretty sure her whole body was on fire at this point. Every part of her that wasn’t coated in a muddy bruise was flushed a deep red. She could feel her fingers tingling and her stomach churning. Aubrey had been respectful, she hadn’t looked, but part of Emily wouldn’t have minded if she had let those deep eyes scan over her body.

“Thank you,” Emily said loud enough to be heard over the water. Maybe it was too loud, but she couldn’t tell, her ears ringing as she stepped further into the shower. She let out a deep hiss as the cool stream made contact with her raw skin. Aubrey leaned forward at the noise, ever the protective one.

Emily let the liquid brush against her, the pressure strong enough to make her skin feel raw. She felt as if she couldn’t’ get clean enough; as if there was a grime coating every inch of her body. Maybe there was, maybe if she went through the motions, if she stopped her quiet in her mind from ripping too much, then she would allow herself to settle.

She let out a small snort as she reached for the extravagant bottle of shampoo resting along the shelf. “Something funny, Emily?”

“Nothing I just,” Her voice echoed “I didn’t expect Aubrey Posen to use cucumber melon soap. What even is cucumber melon?”

“Beats me.”

Emily could hear the smirk against Aubrey’s lips, and damn did she wish she could see it. See the amusement that was scarce these past few hours. Aubrey was a serious person- and that’s the only side that Emily has seen so far. She ached at the thought of having to wait longer to get an actual smile from the girl.

“It smells pretty good though.” Aubrey continued “Cucumbers don’t smell like anything.”

“Maybe it’s just for girth.”

“Girth?” Aubrey let out a snort herself, her form against the curtain raised a hand to stifle a laugh. “I don’t think… Emily that’s not a good enough excuse to use the word _girth._ _”_

Emily flushed again, but this time, it was only her cheeks. She smiled, moving a little faster as she went to rinse the conditioner from her hair. The scent overwhelmingly sweet as she let the soap wash away from her body. Eventually, the girl knew that she had to shut the water off and return to the cold and massive mansion that awaited her.

She hit the button again, the water only getting stronger, _colder._

Emily let out a yelp, making Aubrey raise quickly. It was almost a bit of a blur. The blonde rushing against the sound as Emily blinked against the sudden residual soap in her eyes. She grasped at something- something being the curtain as Aubrey struggled to work the enhanced controls of her own shower.  

There was a loud ripping noise as the sheet of fabric moved against the rings that Emily just noticed had little fake rubies against them to tie in the theme. She also noticed how small her arms were, and how much she had to hastily cover up as Aubrey eventually shut the water off.

Her tank top was adhered to her skin, outlining the bit of figure that Emily had the pleasure to see when she lifted the own shirt off her back to hand over to the brunette. Now she could see the laced bra that Aubrey had dawned and the slightly soaked strands of hair that fell into those shattering eyes.

That very stare widened as Aubrey gasped and brought her hand up to her stare, instantly averting her stare as she turned around with a bit of a squeak. Her shoe groaned against the condensation against the floor- her opposite hand grasping the nearest fluffy towel.

“I am _so_ sorry.” Aubrey seemed flustered, sputtering out her words as she Emily pulled the fabric against her- heart in her throat. “That was not, I would never, wow.” Emily was bewildered, pressing her back against the side of the shower once more.  “At least you smell like cucumber melon.”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, things are heating up a bit! kind... maybe, we'll see. I promise I'll get to the crime eventually!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, this kind of sucks. But I wanted to give you guys a little something before I head out to Wyoming for the rest of the week! Anyway, let me know what you think, because your comments and feedback really do mean the world to me, and I'll be better about responding to them!

**Her hair was damp** and cold against the exposed edge of her neck. It was a tangled mess, dark locks flowing too close to soaking through a Barden t-shirt that Aubrey had haphazardly explained would fit Emily well enough. It was too small, riding up against a strip of exposed skin between the elastic shorts she had been given; but anything was better than the near-sheer hospital scrubs that were thrown out.

The room was a large one, decked out in royal reds and equally as extravagant golds. There was a dark oak bedframe and too many pillows to count. The room had hardwood floors, but there was a designed rug to cushion her feet as they walked against it. The room had a stone balcony past two carved doors with equally as counted curtains.

There were three bookcases built into the pine walls, each lined with multiple volumes of classics that looked as if they were forged from fires unknown. Emily looked so small compared to the rest of the room, her knees pulled up to her chest as she sat in the same exact place that Aubrey had left her in fifteen minutes ago.

She could still smell the lavender soap, still, pull the edge into her throat as she clenched her eyes shut- _God, her uncle was going to kill her._   

Emily traced the gold fabric that was embroidered into the crimson bedspread as she thought about home. From the sound of it, it had only been about 48 hours since she ran head-first into a car that was instrumental in a bank heist. But that was all she knew.

A sinking feeling ate away at her as she thought about her mom; her mom who worked two jobs and struggled to keep the light bill on for longer than a month at a time. Emily had almost grown used to the lights flickering a few times before hooding out to complete darkness. In times like those, she would stare into the satin cold as her mind raced. _The power wasn_ _’_ _t so important_ she reasoned with herself _all you do is sleep here, Emily._

She had been working since she was fifteen, and still fought tooth and nail for everything that she wanted. Her uncle didn’t pay much, but he paid, so each morning she would mount the bike she had found at a thrift shop (it pained her to part with the twenty dollars she earned on foot) and travel the twenty-three blocks to deliver each paper before seven am.

Emily didn’t’ mind it much, in fact, after the first month of icing her aching legs and quelling the pain that filled every inch of her body, she started to enjoy it. She could push her headphones into her ears as she let the slick tires of the old red bike glide over the glossy pavement.

The music would fill every inch of her as she pushed forward on the textured pedals, the air, depending on how cold it was, bit at her features and tore at her throat, but it was rhythmic now. It was a routine that kept her away from the dark, kept her away from sitting on a fleece blanket in the middle of their apartment, trying to finish off all the forgotten ice cream before it melted.

It always gave Emily a stomach ache.

She wondered dastardly if Aubrey had ever gone through anything like that. The woman looked too wise for her age, too poised to have a normal childhood. Something told Emily that with a house this size, the light bill would never be an issue. But then again, Emily never had to worry about the ties of a mafia.

As if on cue, there was a slight knock to the door. Emily swears she heard a key turn in that old iron lock- like she was Belle confined to a library and a large room. A prisoner that wasn’t really behind iron bars. But it was still futile to scale the large walls of the mansion until she could run against the endless driveway.

“I hope you’re decent.”

That voice wasn’t Aubrey’s, it wasn’t Chloe’s either, Emily decided. Though she had met the girl once her sharp and bubbly personality was a hard one to bury. In fact, Emily had never heard the voice it all; it made her pale and push further into the pillows.

The door creaked open softly, the doe-eyed girl blinking as she got a good look at the person who claimed the words.

She was on the shorter side (But everyone was short to Emily, if she was being honest). Her hair a chestnut brown as it flowed over semi-broad shoulders. She wore a simple set of washed blue jeans and a black t-shirt with a few designs on it that Emily couldn’t recognize. A blue and black flannel covered that as well. The girl had the darkest midnight eyes she had ever seen, so cobalt they were almost black.

The beginning of a tattoo stretched along the inside of her arm where the sleeve was rolled up. Even from here, Emily could see that it was a feather. A black one that probably belonged to a crow.

“Don’t look so afraid.” She waved her free hand in front of her face, features twisting into a playful smirk “I’m just a delivery person here.”

“Delivery?” _They_ _’_ _re going to deliver my death. That_ _’_ _s it. This tiny raccoon is going to gut me like a fish._

She cocked a perfectly plucked eyebrow and held up her other hand, shaking around a bag. Even from here, Emily could tell it was food. The grease-stained the white paper and made it almost clear- the scent of fries hit her like a cyclist not paying attention.

“Relax, Bambi.” The girl scoffed, tossing the bag her way. It landed a couple of inches away from her curled-up frame. The woman let the door close behind her, crossing her arms over her chest. It gave Emily a better view of her. “It’s a burger and fries. Aubrey wants me to make sure you actually eat something.”

“Oh,”

“She had a few things to take care of.” Was all the woman reiterated. Emily didn’t make a move for the bag, instead, she swallowed thickly and stared the girl down. “I already helped you out with those fries. So just take a few bites of the burger. That way _neither_ of us gets in trouble.”

She wanted to refuse it, but her body betrayed her almost instantly as the real scent hit her. It quickly filled her mouth with saliva as her stomach let out an ungodly growl. It made the stranger smirk even more as she plopped down on the bench at the end of the bed. She easily let her back rest against the wooden posts- crossing her ankles. “Sounds like you’re hungry, Bambi.”

Emily scoffed at the nickname but unfolded the bag. She couldn’t really remember the last time she had something other than a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Even with the woman watching, she felt quite shameless as she bit chewed slow enough to actually taste her food. Her stomach seeming to settle a bit at the meal.

“Do you all live here?” Emily asked after she took a few bites.

The woman was staring out the window at this point, those dusky eyes flashing back to the only other girl in the room. She squinted her eyes, her jaw clenched. “You do realize if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you. Which means all of Aubrey’s hard work would be for nothing.” She was deadpan

“that’s _terrifying._ _”_

They sat in a stilled silence for a while before the brunette let out a strong snort and shook her head. “The answer is no, Emily. Sometimes we have sleepovers” her tone changed, a little lighter “Mafia sleepovers are the best.”

Emily decided that she would rather stay silent after that.


End file.
